The Johnson-Lesch Christmas was once again rife with beautiful quotes, including my mother’s threat to drip wax on me during the candlelit church service and my uncle’s assertion that my baked pear tasted like “a melted candle.”
He was eating said pear dessert because he’s “off sweets,” a restriction that did not prevent him from consuming cheesecake. We collectively decided he should audition for “The Biggest Loser.” It was a proposal that my cousin Taylor met with “But that’s for like really big people,” which was a defense my grandmother met with “Oh Taylor, you’re nice to your father.”
Other great moments included my father’s attempt to pass off “S-T-I-C-H” as the proper spelling of “stitch” during a game of Boggle, our typical communal reading of trashy celebrity magazines (pictured above--and yes, that's grandmother with Star and grandchild with knitting), and my “Who Wore It Best?” showdown with my cousin Brooklyn.
We over-accessorized a bit.
The get-together concluded with a customary “Seinfeld” viewing, during which we subconsciously picked up tips on how to be mean to each other. Let's just say "Serenity now!" was yelled my our mother on more than one occassion.
